


Above the Yawning Abyss

by Naz_Artz



Series: Truth Lies in an Abyss [3]
Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: F/M, Get's better then gets worse, M/M, Rating May Change, Time Travel Fix-It, then starts to get better again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29485374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naz_Artz/pseuds/Naz_Artz
Summary: Tales of Serendipity Redux essentially.
Relationships: Asch the Bloody/Natalia Kimlasca-Lanvaldear, Jade Curtiss/Luke fon Fabre
Series: Truth Lies in an Abyss [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/565750
Kudos: 5





	Above the Yawning Abyss

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Broken Doll](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065976) by [Kyu_Momo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyu_Momo/pseuds/Kyu_Momo). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, I have...so many plot threads for the Prologue, so you're getting many chapters of Childhood.

When Luke wakes, or opens his eyes—truly this is all just a bad dream in the back of his mind that he wishes he could care less about—instead of ending back on that day when everything began to unravel he was...small. He felt unbelievably tiny and weak, his arms felt like hello, even holding himself up felt tiresome. Not to mention the vast array of hands that reached out to him. He flinched back trying to swat at them, but his hand refused to even budge. He was being crowded, in the foyer of the Fabre Manor. He blinks his eyes against the bright lights of the Manor, the fonstones messing with his head. The buzz of the light irritating his addled mind.

Blinking again and again as he attempted to clear his eyes to see past the maids crowding him, the din of them shouting for his Father and for more blankets and water, he sees Guy across the way, eyes wide looking scared. Luke can't help but wonder, is it in fear of being caught as a possible accomplice to Vandesdelca, or perhaps it's in horror of knowing what Vandesdelca has done, or will do in the future.

No.

**No.**

Guy...Guy never knew Vandesdelca's plan, he never knew how far Vandesdelca would take it.

Never knew the lengths to which Vandesdelca would go, to ensure this world's freedom from the Score. Nor would he have known as a child. But how was Guy here, why was he so young, so afraid?

"Luke! **_LUKE!!_** " Suddenly Luke is taken by the shoulders roughly and shaken, shouted at and he doesn't like this. Does not like the grip and the feeling of being gripped. He's never been able to handle the hatred of others well, and despite changing so much in the span of such little time, he still couldn't face Crimson. Not after all that had happened.

"Luke answer me, please it's me your father, Crimson fon Fabre!!"His father shook him again, voice growing louder. Luke met his gaze and found a different face in its place. It was not the Crimson that was worrying about him, it was the Crimson from a previous memory—had it happened or not—where Luke was to be publicly executed, the man had looked at him with uncaring eyes as the blade dropped. Luke hadn't cared about Crimsons approval, but those eyes, uncaring and damning all because he refused to go to war.

They had been burned into his mind forevermore.

"Luke, son, please look at me," Crimson begged, and Luke knew the worry in Crimsons voice to be true, but he could not separate it from the cold man who had readily sent him off to his death so many times...Even when his mother, Suzanne—and wasn't that funny to consider one parent his and the other not—she begged for him to be spared, even after he admitted to her that she was not his from the beginning. Suzanne, his mother, was one of the kindest people he knew, and still wanted to keep him near her, accepting him as her son despite the events that led to his existence.

It is the memory that Crimsons love for him is not unconditional that urges him to separate himself from the man, forcefully shouting and kicking uncharacteristically running away only for his muscles to give out, having never been used before. Crawling away from Crimson to hide from him. Clutching Guys' foot as he pulled himself up and curled himself against Guys' chest. Feeling Guy's arms naturally wrap around him, more reflex than actual want to hold Luke, or perhaps even come into contact with him at all. But it is a reflex Luke is guilty of abusing, because he can think of no one here save his mother, who is not present, that would be willing to hold him so tenderly.

"Luke…"Crimson said woefully. Luke can still hear the sadness, the disappointment, the pit that drops in Crimsons stomach, and he doesn't care. He can't…he can't look at that man and hope for help. Can't look at him and expect any sympathy, perhaps one day when this was all over but today was not that day.

"...Master Luke, please your father is calling for you," Guy said, gently putting his hands over Luke's own, no doubt discomforted by Luke's sudden familiarity with him. Luke buried his face into Guys waist and heaved, shoulders shaking, gripping tighter onto Guy's dress shirt.

Guy gave a sharp intake of breath, and Luke assumed it was because he clung harder. But when he felt Crimsons' hand against his shoulder, he flinched, wrapping his arms around Guys' waist to cling harder.

"Ahh..."Guy said in surprise, rebalancing his footing so they wouldn't fall. Slowly Luke felt Guy's hands begin to hug him back.

"Duke fon Fabre, forgive this servants impertinence but…"Guy began, and Luke stiffened, no, no, Guy couldn't be taken away from him so soon, "Perhaps it's best if we escorted the Young Master to her Grace the Duchess."

There was silence as Luke began to quiver once again.

_ /Luke.../ _

No, he didn't want to hear it again, he didn't want to hear that voice that started this all ever again.

" _Nonsense!!_ Luke, son please cease this behavior and **look** at me," Crimson sounded resigned, but Luke would not let go, shaking his head as he tried to bury himself deeper in Guys arms, arms that were also reluctant to hold him. Because this was not his Guy, was not his dearest friend, no it was a child as confused as anyone else. But Luke couldn't control these feelings of relief that grew with each passing second he held onto Guy.

"Your Grace," a voice called to his father to get his attention, and Luke let his shoulders intense ever so slightly when his father's attention was turned away from him.

Peace, for now.

" **Boy** ," his father said sternly, causing his shoulders to seize up again, he felt Guy grow stiff, "Take my son to Her Grace, the Duchess, and _be careful_."

"O-of course sir," Guy said, bowing, and gingerly leading Luke as they stumbled down the hallways, long and endless as they always seemed to be, until they were in front of his mother's room.

She had always been so sick, never healthy enough to go anywhere or do anything, but he loved her all the same. In every timeline, Suzanne, his mother...Asch and his, their mother, she loved and cherished them both dearly. And for that he would always be grateful to her. 

"Here we are...you do know where we are right?" Guy asked, as if suddenly realizing the state he was in.

Luke considered what to do, he could tell the truth, feign that he knew everything, and see what changes could be brought about. But the voice, that tiny little parasite that thrived on him making mistakes, whispered to him to lie, to lie and say he knew nothing, nothing at all and move on from there. To inflict maximum damage and manipulate every factor around him.

But in the end he never could make a choice, one had already been made for him.

"O-oh, you don't, um…"Guy was at a loss of what to do, and Luke couldn't blame him, clutching his blanket closer to his body, and clenched Guys' hand. He found that it took a great deal of effort, which should've been obvious all things considered, it must've been pure adrenaline before that let Luke cling to Guy for this long.

"S…" Luke apologized, or at least tried to, he couldn't speak. He couldn't talk. How would he— _how could he_ —?!

His chest began to seize and his legs gave way as he began to bring his arms, his shaking weak arms around his body, to hold himself and ground himself. He couldn't hear what was going on around him, only that Guy was shouting and the servants ran around in a flurry, he thought he could hear the distant voice of Suzanne—his mother, called out to him.

"Mma.."Luke muttered, his vocal chords unused to such use, despite his kind being able to provide him the words to speak with. This body was weak, and prime for Vandesdelcas' machinations.

The perfect tool, for the perfect Calamity.

As the world began to spin and rush all around him, Luke found himself sinking deep within his mind, into the recesses of his thoughts where not a single shred of light seemed to dwell.

Luke feared the memory of his failures, he feared the disappointment of his loved ones, he feared the loss of his voice, the repetitive lifetimes of watching any change he attempted to bring to be fooled by Vandesdelca himself. Vandesdelca, despite the merits to his claims, to make the decision that the entirety of the world was not worthy of life, to make the decision for all that they were not welcome in the new world. How he despised such rash decisions.

Enough was enough. Luke could not bear to see another calamity unfold, could not allow Vandesdelca the triumph. He was too rash all those times past, he would make Van's death slow, he would make it painful, even if all his friends had to watch him do so, even if...even if he had to become a monster. 

Luke had no other reason to live, than to avenge the future victims of Vans treachery. 

That had always been his goal, except this time he'd see it through. This time he would not settle for less than hanging Vandesdelcas' head from the Gates of Daath.

Yes. For once, all was quiet in his mind, for once they let him rest.

* * *

It had been a week since Luke had been checked upon by Kimlascas' best Doctors. They had examined him over head to toe and determined, as always, that his lack of speech and muscular atrophy was likely a result of his trauma, as was his general fear and aversion to Crimson himself. While it wasn't exactly the truth, the Doctor was merely trying to apply a logical answer to an improbable problem.

Fomicry wasn't exactly on the table as a possibility.

Luke was a replica, he wasn't meant to have such capacity for speech and overall awareness, but have it, he did. And he would put it to use as best he knew how. With some luck, Luke wouldn't be meeting Vandesdelca until he'd learned to speak properly and write without his hands shaking. Not to mention relearning how to eat by himself and walk. 

By the Score, there was so much to learn and such little time.

But he would do it.

This was all for those who died due to his negligence after all. 

> **_*You killed us*_ **
> 
> **_*I died on that rock because of you*_ **
> 
> **_*Had you saved me faster my grandparents wouldn't have had to mourn me*_ **

He knows, he knows. Lorelai and Yulia knows how much there was for him to do with so little time. Asch would be here soon, and Luke could barely get the pencil to make the letters it did. It was...so frustrating. But if he rushed things his hands would suffer, and he'd need them to hang Vans head. He'd need them to make him suffer.

> **_*We will not rest until He Who Would Seize Glory is dead*_ **
> 
> **_*This you owe us*_ **
> 
> **_*This we are long overdue*_ **

Luke knows, he knows. And he must grant it. There is no one he can trust in this house with the contents of this letter. So he practices his letters until they are small enough. It takes him more than two weeks to learn to write as well as he could when he'd first gone through this life in this body. Granted then, he'd needed to relearn basic things like how to speak and how to walk.

He was an infant. An infant born in an adult body forced to grow like one.

But he wasn't anymore, no longer was he blessed with a child's ignorance, no cursed with the responsibility of murder and destruction of so many lives. He'd been burdened by knowledge of what would come to pass, and if he wanted to pass on quietly and silence the ghosts that followed him everywhere, he'd need to forgo living as an innocent and embrace the sins he'd committed.

How old would he be now Luke wondered. He'd gone back a total of ten times now, that would make him 14 then wouldn't it. How funny, if he made it to this body's age of 17, he'd technically be well over 21, thus becoming an adult even if he knew he'd never truly make it there. 

Luke didn't deserve to make it there.

Asch did.

Luke shook his head, he needed to focus. Wallowing in his memory would benefit no one, this letter needed to be written and dropped somewhere inconspicuous enough that none of the guards would find it. Which was surprisingly in a fair amount of places around the estate, but that wasn't what Luke was worried about, he knew exactly where he could leave it for Asch to find...the problem was being left alone long enough to leave it there.

He'd be out with his mother, Crimson and Natalia. And he still couldn't walk as well as he'd like. It required a lot of stretching and concentration to move even one step. Back around the first time it had taken him around six months to learn how to walk without stumbling. And another eight to walk as fast and as naturally as anyone else.

It was... frustrating.

It was frustrating to struggle so much when there was so much that needed to be done.

But it needed to be done. So Luke writes his letters, tears up the ones that don't say what he wants them to. Folds it up neatly, and impresses upon it a signet stamp he'd been handed after requesting one from Natalia. He'd felt guilty, using her memories and love of Asch to suit his own ends, but it'd be going to Asch anyway, so perhaps it was better that he used all the tools he had available.

Just until Asch was returned to his rightful place in this house.

Satisfied, Luke hid the letter between his desk drawers. No one would think to look there, but should they go looking they'd be hard pressed to find it. He takes out another sheet of paper and drafts a shorter and much simpler letter to his Uncle, this will cement his childlike amnesia into everyone's minds, most of all it will make him that harder to detect under Van's watchful eye. Stamping his seal on it once again, the image of a singular note circled by a series of miniscule lines and dots stared back at him.

 _'The Seventh Fonon,'_ Luke smiled to himself wryly, leave it to Natalia to understand what he'd wanted with his barebones description. He truly was a wretched thing using her so.

> **_'Wretched indeed._ **
> 
> **_We've been waiting so long for our retribution._ **
> 
> **_You do not get to have regrets when we suffer so.'_ **

They were right. They were always right.

Luke turns the letter over, quickly scrawling the name Uncle onto the letter, and leaving it upon his desk. No doubt a maid or someone else would pick it up in the morning. 

And thus he turned towards his bed, planning to do nothing but sleep for the rest of today.

Until there was a knock at the door.

"Master Luke?" It was Guy, the childish part of his brain, the part that still yearns for Guy's friendship jumps with excitement," Master Luke if you're awake, please ring the bell on your desk."

Bell? What bell, Luke turned to look around on his seat. There wasn't a bell in sight, just several sheets of paper, of which he'd used multiple times, which he'd practiced his penmanship on. A few of the picture books he'd been brought for his rehabilitation, but nothing else. 

Perhaps on his bed, Luke slowly set his feet on the ground, using the desk and chair to support him. It was just three steps, he could make three steps. Three measly steps.

One. His legs still felt like weights, even after two consistent weeks of practice.

Two. Lorelei this was hard, he had the knowledge but not the strength.

Three. He'd made it he'd—slipped.

On a sheet of paper. Quickly bringing his hands onto the back of his head, Luke took initiative into stopping his head from taking the brunt of the blow. And he succeeded but the pain still wrung around in his skull.

"Master Luke?!" Guy shouted worriedly, quickly entering his room, to find Luke hissing on pain on the ground.

"What happened?!" Guy asked, searching him from head to toe in search of injury in the form of a bruise or a scratch. Luke's heart ached, wanting so badly for Guy's concern to be genuine, despite the likelihood that this Guy was only asking out of worry for Guy's own survival, because Luke was sure it couldn't be anything else. Luke was the son of the man who killed Guy's whole family after all, but it was nice to imagine if only for a moment that this Guy was the same person, watching over him as always.

"...'ell," was all Luke could muster without straining his voice, pointing to the chair and the papers on the ground, he'd learn to speak soon enough and when he did he'd be prepared to make sure he could be as dense and dumb as possible without anyone the wiser. His entire plan hinged on Vandesdelca knowing nothing, seeing nothing and hearing nothing. Perhaps at some point he could convince some servants to keep their mouths shut, they could easily be bought with promises of gold and extra food to take home to their families. He did not wish to use them so, but they demanded it of him.

Luke had to kill Vandesdelca, and put an end to this charade once and for all.

" _—uke!!_ Are you sure you're okay?" Luke blinked, and turned his head towards Guy, those tired blue eyes staring back at him with worry and...no hatred, not even a bit of anger. Why?

"...mm,"Luke nodded his head once, face in awe of Guy, who seemed to not believe him. Guy had not become such a Mother hen until at least months later. Why so soon…?

"...The Duke and Duchess wanted to have a picnic with you, if you are ready, I am to prepare you for it and help you outside," Guy informed him, turning his gaze away, perhaps to mask his hate, or his shame at being forced to do such labor as the sole survivor of a fallen house.

"..mm'ay,"Luke struggled, grabbing onto the framing of the bed, struggling to pick himself up, Guy quickly coming to his aid in helping him.

"No wonder you slipped, your shoes were off, you know how slippery paper gets on wood," Guy muttered, quickly finding Luke's shoes and fitting them onto his feet, tying the laces snugly onto both of his feet. Something his fingers weren't dexterous enough to do just yet. They'd made an order for a few pairs of non-laced boots for him to use until he could tie them on himself again, but until then he had to endure the weakness of this body, and the speeds at which his mind rapidly moved.

It was frustrating. Aggravating.

Shameful.

Yes it was shameful. He'd practically gotten the blessing of a God and he couldn't even tie his laces.

Yulia...Luke was fucked up.

"—uo get,"Luke blinked again, once again lost in his thoughts and bouts of self loathing. Guy had his arms extended, hands outstretched, ready to _*aid*_ Luke in his walking, not carry him like so many others were wont to do.

"Master Luke?" Guy called again. Luke nodded, and hesitantly grabbed onto Guy's hands, and slowly set his feet on the ground. Taking step by hesitant step, as Guy led him out of his room, and towards the gardens.

Maybe Luke could pretend Guy liked him...just for a few minutes.

He didn't see the conflicted expression on Guys face as they left the room.


End file.
